


Going With the Heart

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Adam-12
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim was only supposed to be his probationary partner. Pete considers that maybe it's time to move on...until something happens that gives him a different perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going With the Heart

Published in _Of Dreams & Schemes 19 (2004)_

__

 

“You saw the size of that guy. What did you expect me to do?”

Sergeant “Mac” MacDonald looked up at the familiar voice approaching from down the hall, and stood to head over to the door.

“Okay, so the cuffs didn’t fit him. Don’t you think using the jumper cables to tie him up was a little extreme, Pete?” 

Mac almost smiled at the younger voice. He didn’t need to see the speaker to know he was grinning. 

“Don’t they teach you anymore to be flexible out on the street? I had to be creative.” 

They were in sight now, one blond and one brunet, one several years older than the other, one a bachelor and one a father. And both in blue, walking in stride. 

“Creative.”

“Creative,” Pete Malloy obstinately repeated. “Why, what would you have done? Enlighten me.”

“Uhh...” That was one Jim Reed wasn’t ready for. He glanced up then and saw Mac in the doorway and his face instantly brightened, no doubt more for the distraction than for any joy in seeing his boss. “Hey, Mac.”

“Reed, Malloy,” Mac nodded, then straightened. “Pete, can I see you for a minute before you go fill out your reports?”

“Sure, Mac,” Malloy said easily, giving his partner a tart look before he stepped toward Mac’s office. He knew he’d just been dodged, Jim’s cheerful smile admitting as much. Shaking his head, he followed his boss into the office and waited until Mac had taken his seat. “What’s up?”

“Sit down, Pete,” Mac indicated the chair opposite his desk, stalling. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to broach this one. “The lieutenant asked me about something yesterday, and I wanted to talk to you about it before I gave him an answer. He, uh, wanted to know if you were ready to take on a new probationer as a partner to train. I’d say Reed’s pretty broken in by now, wouldn’t you?”

He knew the answer to that from his own observations; four years of riding together should have been enough to train even the dullest recruit. And Jim Reed had been one of the best. In a year or two, Mac had no doubt they would be asking Reed to start riding with some of the probationers. 

But even though Pete was well aware of all that, he still sat silent, yet to offer an answer, and Mac had a good idea why. Malloy had never been one to let sentiment interfere with the job and was usually willing to do whatever duty Mac requested of him, and do it well. His relationship with Reed, though, had gradually become more than that of a riding partner. They’d become tuned like some detective pairs Mac had seen, genuine friends as well as partners. And now Mac was asking if they wanted to split up.

Malloy finally leaned forward, his movement the deceptively slow kind that often threw felons off-guard. “Jim’s doing just fine, you know that, Mac. I think we work pretty well together and I trust him. But if there’s someone else you want me to work with...”

Even Mac didn’t know him well enough to see beyond Malloy’s poker face. In fact, no one he knew ever did except for Reed, who seemed to have an uncanny ability to crawl into his laconic partner’s skin. The sergeant wouldn’t have minded a little of that insight now; Pete’s answer told him next to nothing. “No, there’s no one specific right at the moment, although we have a new class graduating in two weeks who’ll need training. The lieutenant was just wondering why the Senior T.O. has been riding with the same person for four years, that’s all.”

Pete gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Because we never stopped, I guess. Call it a promise I’ve been keeping that I made once to Reed.”

“What promise?” Mac frowned at him. 

“To keep him on a leash for the sake of the city,” Pete answered with a smile, and stood. “Is there anything else you wanted to see me about? Jim’s not gonna let me forget it if he ends up doing all the paperwork by himself.” 

“No, that’s it for now,” Mac said. “I’ll pass your answer on to the lieutenant. Since you’re ready to move on, you’ll probably be paired with one of the new recruits two weeks from now.”

Malloy paused mid-route to the door, looking as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and shut his mouth. With a parting nod to Mac, he left the office and headed down the hall after his partner.

Partner--it was a hard word to shake, Mac knew. Pete had called Reed that from the start, even if it had taken the younger man a while to grow into the title, but other officers weren’t so quick or willing to bestow it. That was an honor you earned. 

Mac suddenly had a feeling Pete wasn’t quite as ready to move on as he’d suggested. But they would probably would rotate him off to another rookie, another unit, without any strong, stated reason to the contrary. And Malloy, the consummate professional, would hardly give them one. 

Well, Mac sighed, opening a folder full of paperwork, that was about all he could do at his end. Deep down, though, he had to admit his regret at Pete’s reaction. Sergeants weren’t supposed to have favorites, but he would miss the familiar team of Adam-12.

*****

“So is it good news or bad news?” Jim finally asked. All sorts of looks and prompts had already fallen flat, but he’d figured they would. Pete was very good at ignoring what he wanted to.

“Is what good or bad news?” Malloy asked, his eyes on the road as he drove. There was the usual hint of a smile on his face, the look that told Jim he wasn’t going to make it easy on the younger man. 

Jim gave a small laugh, playing along. “What Mac wanted. It wasn’t about that report I misfiled, was it? I already told him Wells was buzzing in my ear the whole time and distracted me.”

“No, it wasn’t the report.”

Silence. Jim swallowed a sigh; sometimes dragging information out of Pete Malloy was worse than trying to get a confession out of a parolee. “So?” he finally said. “What was it?”

“He wanted to ask me if I was ready for reassignment to an incoming probationer.”

Pete’s smile had disappeared and Jim felt his slide away, too. Of all the things he’d considered, that certainly wasn’t one of them. “What did you say?” he asked more reservedly.

“Well, I am Senior T.O. I said if they had someone to assign me to, I’d go.”

“Oh.” The last of Jim’s good mood evaporated. He’d known reassignment would probably come sometime. When he’d finished his rookie year, he’d spent the next few months expecting the word to arrive any day. But it hadn’t, nor had Pete seemed anxious to move on, and slowly Jim had begun to take for granted that they were partners, that he and Malloy would always be Adam-12. True, Pete was Senior Training Officer, but it always seemed to be enough that he rode with probationers while Jim was on vacation or on the injured list. Each time Reed had returned, he’d slipped back into the partnership without hesitation. He’d gotten used to it. Used to Pete. 

Who was now watching him sideways that way he did when he was concerned about Jim. “Just ‘Oh’?” Pete said, eyebrow arching.

Well, the news didn’t seem to be rattling Malloy any. If Pete was ready to move on, Jim certainly wasn’t going to hold him back. Maybe Jim was the one who had taken the whole idea of partnership more seriously than he should have. “Any word on who they’re going to put with me?” he asked, only half-interested.

“Hey, slow down. The reassignment’s not even official—Mac was just asking what I thought about it.” 

Jim nodded. “Maybe I’ll finally have a chance to drive,” he quipped.

Another glance from his partner. “Yeah.” 

Funny, he didn’t sound too delighted, either. Probably unenthused about the idea of breaking in another new guy, Jim figured, and he couldn’t blame Pete for that. Reed wasn’t looking forward to getting used to someone new, either. A new silent communication to build up, a new body language to learn, a new division of duties to work out. A new person to vent to and cheer up and share all his little Jimmy stories with. Not likely. 

Jim sank a lower in his seat and concentrated on scanning his side of the street. Whatever the future held, they still had a job to do. 

It didn’t take long for the car two ahead of them to catch his attention. A glance at Pete showed that Malloy had also noticed the black Chevy that swerved in and out of lanes with reckless abandon, several cars having to brake suddenly in its wake. Pete didn’t even look at Reed, gently speeding up and changing lanes to keep pace while Jim reached for the radio and called it in. 

For a moment, the car seemed ready to rabbit, and Jim’s hand hovered near the switch for the lights and siren. But as he gave the car a wave to pull over, after briefly hesitating, it did.

“You want to take it?” Pete offered as he pulled in behind the Chevy and turned off the motor.

Jim shook his head. “Naw, something’s squirrely about the guy. I wanna keep an eye on him. You go ahead.”

Pete accepted that, grabbing the ticket book and stepping out of the car as Jim slid out on his side. 

It was always hard to tell from the back, but as Jim stood by the rear passenger side door, the driver looked to be in his twenties, blond and slender. At Pete’s request, he obediently reached for his wallet and rifled through it. His legs subtly shifted at the same time, almost as if he were—

“Get back, Pete,” Jim barked, his gun in his hand in the same second, if only as a threat. Regulations forbade shooting into a moving car and it looked like the Chevy was about to become just that.

Pete instantly took a step back, his gun also out and his eyes trained on the driver. No doubt wondering what Jim had seen, but you went with your partner’s lead no matter what. Jim barked at the driver, “Put the brake on and turn off the car, Mister.”

He watched until he made sure he was obeyed, waiting as Pete had hustled the guy out of the car and up onto the curb. Reed had an idea his partner had guessed the details by then, but as Pete moved to stand beside him, he leaned a fraction closer and whispered, “Guy was getting ready to take off.”

The barest of nods from Pete. 

Jim holstered his gun. Up close and from the front, the driver looked more like an older teen than a twenty-something. And younger and more shaken by the second as Pete chewed him out. Jim had to restrain himself from smiling. He himself had gotten a few tough lectures like that from Malloy, and he didn’t envy the kid. Of course, that had been more when he’d first started and was still making dozens of mistakes a day. Now, it was more down to one or two and Pete tended to overlook those, especially as Jim always returned the favor. 

As long as they’d be partners, anyway. His smile disappeared. 

With the fear of God firmly implanted into the young man and an extracted promise to drive more safely and not try something so stupid again, Pete finally let the kid go. Shaking his head, he gave Jim a quick grin and they returned to the squad. 

The next minute, they were pulling out into traffic again as Jim called in to clear them. 

Pete eventually spoke up.

“By the way, thanks.”

Jim glanced at his partner. “You’re welcome. Thanks for what?”

“For saving me a couple of toes.”

Jim smiled at the report sheet he was filling out. “No problem.” 

Comfortable silence fell. It often did between them. But, Jim couldn’t help but think, not for much longer. 

“One-Adam-12. See the woman, missing juvenile--347 Garber. Code 2.”

Pete made an easy u-turn as Reed picked up the mike. “One-Adam-12, roger.” Then, to Pete, “That’s our third one this week.”

“Let’s hope it turns out as well as the other two,” Pete soberly answered. The missing juvenile they received a call on at the beginning of the week had turned up before they’d even got there, having been engaged in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek, and a missing toddler the day before had only wandered a few houses away and was quickly reunited with her mother. No cop liked getting a missing juvenile call, especially not young dads like Jim. Though Pete suspected he’d become a little softer, himself, since becoming a godfather. It wasn’t hard to see Jimmy’s face on a few of the missing kids. 

The mother was waiting frantically at the curb, and Pete’s hopes that the child had turned up died a quick death. Jim was out of the car before he was, already talking to her. Pete circled the bumper to join them, arriving in Reed’s mid-soothe.

“Ma’am, please try to stay calm. We’ll do everything we can to find him. How old is your son?”

“He’s four. He’s only four! I just turned my back for a minute and he was gone! How could he go anywhere so fast, he’s only three?!” She was close to hysterical, and Pete scanned the area around them for any sign of an errant four-year-old or at least a sympathetic neighbor who could sit with the mother and maybe calm her down. The driveway revealed no car, so it was unlikely the father was home yet. Pete thought briefly of asking the woman if her husband had been called, but most of the time the wives called their spouses even before contacting the police. Beside, he doubted they’d get much out of her that wasn’t directly related to the missing child. 

“Okay, he’s four years old. What else can you tell me about him? What was his name?”

“Jimmy. His name’s Jimmy,” she cried. 

Uh-oh. Pete watched his partner’s back stiffen. Four was close in age to Jimmy Reed, too. Some calls were particularly tough not to personalize. He took a step closer to his partner.

Jim glanced up at him, a flash of dark determination in his eyes. Pete silently backed off. Contrary to uninformed opinion, it wasn’t the level of passion that separated the newer cops from the veterans, it was what they channeled that passion into. Malloy had faith that his partner knew what to do with his. 

A few more vital statistics were collected, Pete adding a question of his own, then he returned to the car to put out the broadcast while letting Jim handle the upset mother. The younger man had always been the better one at that between the two of them. 

Then they both went searching. 

Four-year-olds had more energy than Pete would have once thought, but they still weren’t usually able to get too far. Jim set off to search the yard around the house, while Pete started in the attic and worked his way down the inside. Everywhere a mother might not think to look but where Pete had found children before--dryer, refrigerator, under the sofa--had to be systematically checked. 

He’d just reached the second-story bedrooms when his name was hollered from the back. Pete opened the nearest back window, leaning out to see his partner kneeling beside a bush and a small protruding leg. 

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Pete yelled back, waiting only until his partner glanced up and nodded before he dashed for the phone. Finding a child quickly that way was almost worse than not finding him at all for a while. No news still allowed for hope, but this... Pete just prayed that little Jimmy would be all right. For his partner’s sake as well as the family’s. 

An hour later, he watched as Jim hung up the payphone and walked back to the car. He fervently hoped his partner had good news. Jim had been too quiet since they'd left the missing juvenile call, just behind the ambulance carrying the little boy. Apparently, the young explorer had tried to climb the backyard fence and had fallen and hit his head, but head injuries were extremely unpredictable. Pete hoped Jimmy would be all right, too, but for his partner it was almost a need. 

"Well?" he asked impatiently as Reed opened his door and climbed in. But Pete knew as soon as saw Jim's face. The slight frown was gone, replaced by a relieved grin.

"Seems like he's gonna be fine. X-rays look good and he's awake and asking for his mom."

Pete smiled. "Good. I just hope the experience cures him of his wanderlust."

"I doubt it," Jim said cheerfully. 

Pete shook his head, still smiling, and turned to check the traffic before pulling out.

 

"Hey! Pete, Jim? Hold on there!"

The call from behind stopped him short, and both he and Jim craned back to see who the speaker was. 

Jim saw him first. "It's Elijah."

Elijah’s home was the streets, and he knew it almost as well as any home owner. He’d played informant for them a few times in the past, running up to them in his limping lope as they cruised by or stopped someplace local for a bite. Sweet but shy, somehow he'd adopted Adam-12 and was willing to speak only to them. Another benefit of having had the same partner and beat for a long time, Pete considered briefly, then discarded the thought as unimportant. 

Elijah came up on Pete's side, abruptly slowing as if he'd suddenly rethought the matter. Which, knowing the reclusive old man, he probably had, deciding he didn't want to get involved or that it wasn't worth the trouble. 

Pete leaned out the window and offered a friendly smile. "What can we do for you, Elijah?"

"Hi, Pete. Hi, Jim." A timid wave accompanied each greeting. "Do you, uh, fellas have a minute?"

"Sure, Elijah." That was Jim. "Something wrong?"

"Well, maybe, maybe. Back there, at George's. I think there's a coupl'a fellas with guns holding him up, but I'm not sure." 

Pete instantly grew serious. "George" would be George Hardiman, who owned a grocery store up the block, and Elijah's description sure sounded like a 211 in progress. Malloy could already hear Jim calling it in behind him. "Are you sure, Elijah?" he asked urgently. "Two men with guns?"

"I think so. Pretty sure." Elijah scratched his head a little doubtfully. "George's always nice to me, gives me hot soup when it's cold." 

"We'll check on him, Elijah, thanks," Pete promised, and as Jim hung up the mike, they both got out of the car and set off at a run for Hardiman's grocery store. 

Just short of the squat brick building, they slowed, guns already in hand. A quick look and motion and Jim nodded, running around to the rear while Pete peered inside. 

Two men, just like Elijah had said, both wearing stocking masks and holding revolvers, stood in front of the counter, just finishing stuffing a handful of money into the bag one held. Hardiman stood behind the register with his hands raised, and at a barked order from one of the gunman, disappeared behind the counter. No doubt lying on the floor like they'd told him to. With that, the two armed men turned toward the door and Pete. 

He'd never get a better chance. Fervently hoping his partner was in position, Pete leaned out into the open doorway. "Police! Drop your weapons and put your hands up."

Like clockwork, they both reversed direction and ran toward the back. Apparently they'd forgotten they were armed, which was just fine with Pete. He hadn't. Holding tight his weapon, he ran after them. 

By the time he burst through the door into the back alley, Jim was already straddling the back of one man, the one with the money bag. The man’s gun was some feet away, too far for him to make a grab at, and Jim had his cuffs out. Pete took it all in at a glance, as well his partner's "all clear" nod, and kept running. The second gunman was already nearly to the mouth of the alley. Even as Pete poured it on, the man turned the corner and disappeared.

Jim was the runner of the two of them, but Pete was his match in determination. He sped up a little more, reaching the corner about ten seconds after the suspect, and took the turn without slowing. Then slid to a stop as he tried to find where the man had gone.

Another few seconds were wasted in scanning the street before he caught sight of his prey dashing into an alley nearly a block down. Pete took off again.

He was breathing hard by the time he reached the alley, and half-bent to catch his breath as he tried to pick up where to go next. Figured he'd be the one to get the Olympic sprinter, Pete groused to himself, then took it back as he remembered a few heartstopping times Jim had disappeared on him during a chase. 

The alley was actually more of a back road, stretching past a half-dozen crumbling tenement building. At the end of the row, the road separated into a T, stretching to the right and left. Pete gave the buildings a glance; the gunman could have run into any of them and hid, true, but somehow he doubted it. Most felons chose to run instead of hiding during a chase, acting on instinct, or perhaps not thinking enough to try any tactics besides retreat. One more glance down the empty alley road and Pete made up his mind, beginning to run again.

At the split, he glanced both ways again. To the right were more tenements, then the way ended abruptly in a brick wall. To the left, several blocks down, he could faintly see a few cars buzzing past on the road the alley emptied into. Pete turned toward the left.

Alleys, driveways, and back roads stretched off to both sides as he ran, and he slowed minutely at each one to give it a glance. There was no reason his suspect couldn't have turned down any one of them, but Pete was well aware he couldn't search them all. If he reached the street and nothing had showed up, he'd resign the cause and loop back to Jim and the unit. 

Something stirred in one of the dark alleys to his right. 

Pete had already nearly run past it, but he slowed, jogging back momentarily to take a second look. Overhangs on the buildings on either side blocked most of the sunlight, casting the alley in shadow, but for a moment he'd almost thought he'd seen...

His gun firmly in hand, Pete crept to the edge of the alley and then slipped inside.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, but there wasn't much to see. Trash cans and some empty boxes were stacked against the side nearest to him and refuse dotted the ground, but the only sign of life was the soft scurry of a rat a few feet in front of him. Pete hefted his gun, uneasy.

A slight rustle of movement from behind was his only warning, and he turned instantly, his gun hand coming up. 

Malloy never saw what hit him. 

*****

Jim was checking his watch for the third time when Adam-43 rolled up, Walters already leaning out the passenger window. "Hey, Reed. What've you got?"

"Two 211 suspects," Jim replied tersely, jerking his head at the cuffed man slouched on the sidewalk next to him. "Pete took off after the other one."

"How long ago?" 

"Eleven minutes." 

He saw Walters frown, knowing what he was thinking. What Jim himself had been thinking.

He made up his mind. "Hey, you wanna take this guy off my hand?" Reed quickly asked. "I'm gonna go see if Malloy needs help."

"Sure." Walters was already climbing out. With a last glance at their prisoner, Jim stopped worrying about him and started off in the direction he'd seen his partner disappear. 

He would have preferred taking the squad, of course, especially if something was wrong, but the black-and-white would have been a tight fit in the alley and who knew where else he'd end up having to go. Besides, it was a lot easier to miss something small while inside the car. It didn't matter. You didn't worry about yourself when your partner needed back up. The exertion would be well worth it if he found Pete safe and simply hung up somewhere. Of course, he'd rib Malloy about it for a month, but then, that was what partners were for, too. 

Jim reached the alley and turned the way he'd seen Pete disappear, pausing as he gauged the street before him. A guy running in a mask was a sure-fire attention getter and probably wouldn't have wanted to stay on the street. Reed scanned the area. Only one retreat of any promise was in sight, an alley nearly a block away. He sprinted down to it and entered. 

Buildings, lots of them, easy-to-break-into tenements. Jim suppressed a groan. Both the guy and Pete could have gone into any one of them, and each being four or five floors, it would take him all day to search them. Except... He frowned. Hadn't it been Pete who had pointed out to him once that felons usually ran instead of hiding? It wasn't a theory Jim had had much of a chance to test before, but if Malloy believed it, that meant he'd probably follow it. Jim took off down the alley. 

A minute later he reached a split, and another decision. One way was more of what he'd just passed, buildings that dead-ended into what appeared to be the solid back wall of a factory. The other way, Jim glanced over, seemed to eventually go back out into the open street. Not much of a contest. He turned the second way.

That was where it got harder, of course. Turn-offs faced him every dozen feet, everything from small footpaths behind buildings to a large back road to a few broken driveways that wound around indefinitely. Still, he paused by each one, long enough to check it out as well as he could without lingering too long. Precious time was ticking away as he looked, one more minute that Pete was missing and possibly in trouble. His senior partner didn't often get in too deeply over his head, but that was one of the things Jim was there for, to watch out for Malloy when he did, just as Pete did for him. He owed the older man a few hundred times over. If only he could find him.

Something made him stop by a particularly dark passage, and Jim peered into the gloom, trying to pinpoint what exactly had caught his attention. 

A hand suddenly rose into sight from behind a pile of trash cans, leaning hard against the wall as if for balance. And with a groan, a strawberry-blond head also appeared, swaying as it tried to lift. 

"Pete!" Jim stuttered in surprise. He hurried into the narrow alleyway, seeing as he did that Pete had sunk heavily back to one knee, only to try again to push himself unsteadily upright. A stubborn man, his partner was. 

Jim was at his side a second later, quickly grabbing Pete's other arm as it groped in the air for some support. A moment more and he found himself nearly thrown off balance as Malloy's legs gave out once more. 

"Easy, Pete. I don't think you should be on your feet," he said quietly. Except he really didn't want to lower Pete down to the filthy ground there, either. Jim glanced up, judging the distance back into the more lighted alleyway. 

Pete was leaning against the wall on the whole of his arm now and turned to squint at Reed. "Jim?" Then he groaned, his hand rising to his temple. "My head..."

Reed angled around to his partner's other side, wincing at the blood that matted the blond hair there. "Yeah, looks like you banged it up pretty good. Was it the suspect?" He glanced around again, this time for the danger he should have checked on to begin with, but there was no sign of company. The attacker had apparently laid Pete out and left him there, not caring whether he'd get help or not. Jim would have been furious if he'd have found the time for it, but he was holding up more and more of Pete's weight and had to do something, quickly. 

Pete hadn't answered his question, but now levered himself away from the walland sagged into Jim. "Let's get...out of here."

Jim bit his tongue against the obvious protest. It wasn't like he had a better idea. Still carefully holding Pete's arm, he began matching his partner's shuffled steps, kicking refuse and cans out of their way as he went and rebalancing them each time Pete stumbled or swayed. "Only a couple more feet, okay?" Jim said gently. Pete moved slowly but with the stubbornness Jim well knew in his partner. 

Somehow, they made it the last bit of distance. With a sigh of relief, Reed lowered Malloy to the ground just outside the dark alley, leaning him back against the solid wall.

In the light, Pete looked even more a mess. His usually pale skin was nearly white, and as he shut his eyes and rolled his head away from the light, it gave Jim a clear view of the bloody gash on the side of his skull. Still bleeding, though Reed knew that with a scalp injury that didn't mean much. Nevertheless, he pulled out his own handkerchief and, folding it into a neat wad, pressed it against the wound. Pete groaned, one hand lifting as if to push Jim away before he caught himself and his hand fell back into his lap. 

 

"Sorry, partner," Jim said regretfully. "Gotta get the bleeding stopped. You hurt anywhere else?"

Malloy's arm curled around his middle. 

"Ribs, too?" Jim asked. A slight nod. "Anywhere else?" A shake of the head this time, wincing at the motion. Jim craned his head to see if any more blood was oozing out from under the compress.

"How's it...look?"

He grinned as his partner opened weary eyes to look at him. "I've seen you look worse, but not by much."

"Thanks," Pete muttered dryly. "Not nice to...kick a man when he's down." 

"That's what you get for running into dark alleys without back-up," Jim chided mildly. He grew serious. "I have to leave you here for a few minutes while I go call for help." He really didn't want to do that, not with Pete down and defenseless.

Malloy knew him too well. "Go," he nudged Jim's arm. "Bring me back a...pizza."

"You really want a pizza?" Jim's eyebrow rose. 

Pete seemed to turn green at the thought. "Maybe not jus' now." 

Jim grinned. "Yeah, okay," he said, giving Malloy's arm a pat as he rose. "I'll be back soon." Another thought occurred to him and he ducked back into the shaded alley for a minute, searching a minute for something. Finding it, he returned to Pete's side and curled Malloy’s hand around his gun. "Just in case, huh?" 

Pete's mouth was quirked in familiar amusement. "Thanks, partner." 

Giving a quick nod, Jim rose and turned, racing back to the unit as fast as he could go. He had no intention of leaving his all-but-helpless friend for one minute longer than he had to. 

*****

Pete Malloy was not a happy man. His head felt two sizes larger, yet still too tight to contain the pounding within. He was sure his skull was going to crack open at any moment. His ribs were a little better, not as painful as before but still brutally punishing any movement on his part. And on top of it all, he was in a hospital. Not that he had anything against hospitals themselves--the staff was usually easy on the eyes and Pete often ended up with a date whenever he had to come by. But as a place to stay, especially when he wasn't feeling well, it left a lot to be desired. 

But there he was, stuck in a bed in the F&P ward at least overnight, "for observation." The ribs were only bruised, they said, but he had a concussion and they wanted to make sure he was all right. Pete could have told them he wasn't, particularly when they kept coming in to poke him with needles or take his temperature just as he was dozing off. His only consolations left were that when his head did explode, there would be someone around to pick up the pieces, and that his partner was still hanging around. 

Jim had followed the ambulance to the hospital in the squad car, already waiting for Pete when they rolled him into the emergency wing, then hovering like a gnat as they checked Malloy over, took x-rays, and decreed he would live. Mac had come by to look in on Pete and had relieved Jim of duty then, their shift having ended somewhere along the way, but even though Pete had encouraged his younger partner to go home, Reed was still there. It was a puzzling loyalty, but one that left him strangely touched. And, secretly, more than a little reassured. Hospitals always left Pete a little unbalanced, and Jim being there was a promise that Malloy's back was covered. That was important to a cop. Maybe also to a friend. 

The headache notched up another degree, feeling like there was a shootout going on inside his head, and Pete winced, shifting his head on the pillow to try to find some relief. They had promised him some light painkillers after a few hours, once they were a little more certain he was okay and they wouldn't be masking any more serious symptoms. Pete was beginning to doubt he'd live long enough to find out.

Jim straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the wall like some weary sentinel. "Head hurtin' bad?" he asked softly.

"Depends on what you mean by bad," Pete gritted out. "I've had a root canal that was more fun." 

Jim took a hesitant step forward. "The nurse said you could get something in about an hour, but I could go ask--"

"Uh-uh. I'll live, just...won't enjoy it too much."

Reed's mouth rose in a half-grin. "Sound more like your old self already." 

Pete managed a glower with his eyes only half-open, which only made Jim's grin widen. Malloy gave up, letting his eyes shut again. He'd lost any hope of putting his partner into place a long time before. "You call Jean?" he finally asked. 

"Yeah. Told her I'd be home once they could start the medication and you were out for the night."

"I really don't need a babysitter, you know," Pete complained. He wasn't about to mention the alley and he fervently hoped Reed wouldn't, either. That had been embarrassing enough. 

But Jim grew unexpectedly serious instead. "You scared me out there, Pete. I just wanna make sure you're all right. Besides," he almost smiled again, "you still owe me a lunch this week."

Ugh, he didn't even want to think about food. The joke let him slide past his partner's honest admission, though. "Knew you had an...ulterior motive." 

"Anyway, they say misery loves company," Jim continued brightly. 

Pete's only answer was a groan that had nothing to do with his headache. Hopeless, that was what his partner was, absolutely hopeless. And Pete wouldn’t have wanted him any other way. 

 

Jim ended up staying past the magic hour when Pete was finally allowed medication. The younger man had spent most of that last hour talking, launching into some new topic seemingly every time Pete flinched in worsening pain. But at least the chatter was a distraction from how miserable he felt, and Pete was silently grateful for that. 

By the time the nurse came and gave Malloy something, Jim had settled into a chair against the wall Pete faced. It was from there he’d attentively watched the nurse as she worked, and Pete would have thought his partner was making eyes at the blonde except for two things: Jim was one of the most devoted husbands Pete had ever known, and on further inspection, he realized Reed was watching what she was doing, not the woman herself. Pete almost shook his head. Jim was still looking out for him, even there. 

With the painkillers finally entering his system, she gave him a smile he saw only blurrily, then she walked out. Jim didn't move.

"You c'n go home now," Pete managed to say, his tongue growing clumsy in his mouth. 

"I told you, I'll wait until you're tucked in for the night. You don't mind the company, do you?" 

The question was half-sincere, and Pete made an effort to answer it. "Uh-uh, just...thought you'd like t'get home. Been a...long day."

"Yeah," Jim quietly agreed, still not budging. "Go to sleep, Pete. I'll be by to pick you up tomorrow 'round noon, okay?"

"'Mmm." The pain was almost gone, but so was everything else. Except his back-up, was Pete's last thought before sleep swept him away, a smile's shadow on his lips.

*****

He survived the night, after all, though still not enjoying life a whole lot. The headache had receded to just a shade below intolerable, and Pete had spent the bulk of the morning dozing and trying to forget his battered body. 

Jim's promised appearance midday with a wheelchair and cheerful welcome didn't improve Malloy's attitude a whole lot, though the younger man couldn't have been a more welcome sight. It meant Pete could go home, and that was the best news he'd heard all day. 

Reed had also brought a change of clothes with him, and Pete got dressed like an old man, gingerly and slowly. He could tell his partner was practically sitting on his hands to keep from offering help, and Pete was relieved at that, but he finally capitulated when it came to the shoes. There was just no way he was getting his hands close enough to feet without falling on his face. Jim saw his dilemma quickly enough and jumped in without waiting to be asked, but if Pete expected any teasing on the matter, he was disappointed. A genuine smile and an invitation for Pete to take his seat in the wheelchair was all Jim gave his partner when he finished. 

The paperwork and trip out to the car went by in a blur, and before Pete knew it, he found himself lying down in the back seat of Jim's small car, pulling out of the hospital garage. 

Jim cast him a look in the rearview mirror. "Jean wants you to come stay with us for a few days until you get back on your feet."

Jean, huh? Pete almost smiled. "Jean" had wanted him to come stay with the Reeds after he'd been shot in Duke's restaurant, too, despite the fact that Jimmy was only a few weeks old and Pete and Jim had only been partners just over a half-year. He'd declined then, only to find either his partner or Jean at his door daily, bringing him food and checking up on him. He got along well with Jim’s wife, but Pete was also well aware she wouldn't have been doing any inviting without Jim's initiation. 

Still, he didn't feel wholly right putting the young couple out, either. "I'll be okay. It's only a little knock on the head." Which had required a half-dozen stitches and had bounced his brain around. 

"The doctor didn't seem to think so," Jim answered stolidly, glancing back and forth between the mirror and the road. He broke out in a grin. "We'll even make sure Jimmy leaves you alone."

"Then I'm definitely not coming," Pete answered immediately. He was pretty fond of his partner, but James Reed, Jr., was his real favorite in the family. 

Jim laughed. "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. He hasn't seen his Uncle Pete in a while now and he's pretty excited." 

The thought should have made him flinch, but Pete could only grin as he leaned back to save his strength for his godson's exuberant welcome. 

Funny, Brownie had been his partner for considerably longer than Jim had, and yet somehow they'd never had what he and Jim did. He’d trusted Brownie, worked well with him, and learned a heckuva lot from the gruff older cop. But they'd never gone beyond the job. Pete couldn't imagine his old partner having waited for hours with him at the hospital, or taking him home with him to convalesce. In fact, Pete had practically been a stranger to Brownie's family. 

So what was different with this kid he rode with now? 

Maybe the same thing that made them such good partners. 

While it lasted, anyway. Pete scowled, forcibly putting the matter out of his mind and dozing the rest of the way. 

*****

It would have embarrassed Pete to no end if he'd been awake, but he wasn't and Jim was taking advantage of that. He stood with a smile in the doorway and for a long time just watched his son and his partner sleep. 

Ironically, it had been a good match, Pete's low energy and Jimmy's overabundance of it. The three-year-old had insisted on sitting and "reading" all his favorite books to his uncle--Jim doubted Malloy had understood much of the prattle, but that hadn't seemed to bother Pete as he'd listened with tired attentiveness. And when they both wore out and Jim had gone to put his son down for a nap, he'd been unable to resist the pair of protests. With promises of best behavior, the two tow-heads had quickly fallen asleep side by side. Jimmy looked as angelic as he ever did when he slept, but Pete looked downright peaceful, too, despite his still-battered appearance.

Who would have thought...

Jim had gotten a glimpse of the softer side of his training officer on his very first day when Malloy had admitted he was resigning due to the death of his former partner, and then as he'd gruffly told Jim he was staying because someone had to keep an eye on Reed. Jim didn't buy it for a minute. There was more to tough Pete Malloy than met the eye, and Reed had been determined to find out what. Still, who would have guessed the older man would become not only someone he trusted with his life, but also his only child's godfather and someone Jim considered his best friend? Not to mention earning that coveted title of "partner." Not he. 

Reed knew all the reasons the department had for shaking up partnerships every once in a while, the fresh perspectives and motivations it was supposed to bring to both new partners. And Pete _was_ one of the most senior officers and rightly responsible for training probationers. But there were also a lot of advantages to riding with the same person for a long time, even the department higher-ups had to admit that. Maybe Pete thought he looked out for Jim, but Jim did his share of looking after his partner, too. Knowing Pete as well as he did allowed him to do that properly. He was a seasoned cop in his own right now, sure. But he still needed Pete, and vice-versa. Jim dared to think they were both better cops that way. 

So why not tell Mac as much? Jim knew his wishes wouldn't matter as much as Pete's did on this issue, but he had a feeling Pete felt much the same way, if duty-bound not to admit it. One of them had to say something, though. Jim wasn't about to let the best thing going for him slip through his fingers without argument.

Silently easing the door shut on the two sleepers, he crept down the hall to make a phone call.

*****

The rap on the door drew Mac's attention from the stats report, and he grinned when he saw Pete Malloy's face through the glass. He waved the man in. 

"Back on duty today?" A quick scrutiny hardly caught the slightly shorter patch of hair on the side of Malloy's head, already hiding most of the fresh scar underneath. He knew Pete well enough to see the officer was still moving a little cautiously, but without real impairment or obvious pain. In all, it was a great improvement from the last time he'd seen his friend. 

"Cleared by the doctor this morning," Pete said with a grin. "I think Jim's gonna deck Wells if he has to ride with him one more day--pairing them together while I was out was cruel, Mac." 

Mac didn't argue that, grinning back. Sometimes being Sergeant could be awfully entertaining. "I take it you don't want desk duty today?" he asked, not able to resist one last dig.

The look Pete gave him would have been insubordination if put into words and was answer enough. Malloy then smoothly shifted gears. "Listen, Mac, I wanted to talk to you about what you asked me earlier." He turned a nearby chair around with one hand and sat backward on it. 

"About?" Mac invited with raised eyebrows.

"About switching off partners. Have you talked to the lieutenant yet?"

"A little. With your being out on the injured list, it hasn't really come up again. Why?"

Pete was being unusually hesitant. "I'd like to stay with Reed for now, unless there's a need for an available T.O." 

Mac leaned back in his seat, not too surprised. "And why is that? The lieutenant will want a reason."

Pete half-shrugged. "You know the reasons for keeping partners together as well as I do: familiarity with the beat, earned trust of the citizens on the beat, the higher efficiency and safety of working with someone you know. It makes us a better team, Mac."

Mac squinted thoughtfully at him. "Does this have anything to do with the 211 call you got injured on?"

Pete's almost-grin returned. "How do you think Jim knew how to find me?"

Mac nodded; he'd gathered as much from the little he'd gotten out of Reed that evening and the vague incident report. "All right, makes sense. I'll run it past the lieutenant. Unless and until we actually need a T.O., I don't think there's any reason he'll split the two of you up, not if you both have stated you'd rather not." 

"I don't know about Jim--" Pete hedged.

Mac's eyebrows went up again. "You don't? Your partner called me about the same thing last week."

It wasn't often he caught Pete Malloy speechless, but Mac enjoyed it every single time. Pete's mouth opened, then snapped shut again, and he finally stood, looking quietly pleased. "Well, I guess that's that, huh?"

"I guess so," Mac agreed with a nod. "You better tell your partner the news, then get ready for roll call." 

"Jim's probably--"

"Right there," Mac pointed. Reed was just visible down the hallway, fidgeting as he tried not to look like he was waiting for someone. "He's been there practically the whole time." Mac almost succeeded in not grinning.

Pete gave him a final glance that said he could see all the way through Mac, then put on his hat and tipped two fingers to the brim in an informal salute. With that, he walked out the door and down the hall to his partner. Reed didn't even pretend to look surprised to see him, falling quickly into step beside Malloy as he began to pepper the older man with questions. Mac almost wished he could hear the exchange. 

Yeah, some things were meant to go together, he thought cheerfully. And he'd make sure the lieutenant would see it the same way. 

With considerable satisfaction, Sergeant MacDonald returned to his reports and got back to work. 

The End


End file.
